One Last Time ?
Bad Boy Bachelors of Orange County BK 1
Khardine Gray
Contents
One Last Time ?
Dylan has a stare colder than the Arctic…
Playlist xx
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Pregnancy Scandal Excerpt
Chapter 1
About the Author
Also by Khardine Gray
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2019 by Khardine Gray
One Last Time Book 1 of Bad Boy Bachelors of Orange County Copyright © 2019 by Khardine Gray
All rights reserved.
Cover design © 2019 by Net Hook& Line Design
Edited by Diamond In The Rough
This work is copyrighted. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The author asserts that all characters and situations depicted in this work of fiction are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations.
It is intended for mature readers. All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.
One Last Time ?
Bad Boy Bachelors of Orange County
Book 1
Khardine Gray
USA Today Bestselling Author
Dylan has a stare colder than the Arctic…
Dylan has a stare colder than the Arctic.
Even so, I can’t stop staring at him.
I should - the guy’s been a thorn in my side since my father hired him as a consultant. I’m supposed to be taking over the company but it feels like dad doesn’t trust me at all.
To impress him I have to impress Dylan.
Not an easy task when I’m pretty certain Dylan is the devil.
The devil with the kind of gorgeousness that should come with a warning.
One that says ‘look but don’t touch’.
I learned the hard way one late night, when we turned into something more.
A mistake?
Yes, it should be.
Until it happened one more time… and again and again.
Then we became a hot, sinful, secret that could cost us everything.
Playlist xx
1.Alanis Morissette- Ironic
2.She Will Be Loved- Maroon 5
3.Paramore: The Only Exception
4.Avril Lavigne - I'm With You
5.Zedd, Katy Perry - 365
6.Lewis Capaldi - Someone You Loved
7.Backstreet Boys - Don't Go Breaking My Heart
8.Freya Ridings - Lost Without You
9.Taylor Swift - Teardrops On My Guitar
10.Jonas Brothers - Sucker
Chapter 1
Taylor
* * *
God…
I’d drunk too much.
I didn’t mean to.
And look at me…
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the bar and sucked in a sharp breath. The reflection of the woman who stared back at me next to the highball glasses looked terrible. That was supposed to be me.
I looked like I’d been on a bender. While my long dark locks were salon perfect, my face, however, was a whole other story. Red eyes that were normally a light brown matched my red lipstick, and the blotchy skin was a near perfect match too. At least the shade complimented the colorful icy concoction of drinks whirring around in the blender near my reflection.
The way I looked was definitely not suited to being outside around people, and absolutely not in The Glow, one of the newest, trendy cocktail bars to open in Laguna Beach.
I’d seen the place was open as I was driving by earlier and thought one glass of wine wouldn’t hurt. I just wanted one damn glass of wine to take the edge off my brain. One glass to wipe the memory of seeing Brody with that woman. His actual girlfriend. His actual girlfriend who wasn’t me like I’d thought.
One glass of wine to forget him pounding into her on his bed while she screamed for more. To which his answer was, ‘Marry me.’
There had been a heaviness in my body since the sight and my ribs tightened every time I remembered, making it difficult for me to breathe.
I’d always heard about these stories. Stories of wives and girlfriends making surprise visits or coming home early to catch their partners cheating.
I’d just joined the club. I’d joined the club and taken my seat in the presidency because catching them having sex was bad and sickening enough. But the fucking proposal as well was… Well, fuck, it put the icing and cherries all over the cake.
My visit to his apartment came about because he’d left his phone at my house last night. It was Abby, my sister, who found it this morning in the bag he’d brought me that was filled with my favorite chocolates. The thing was, in the six months we’d been together, I’d never seen him with that phone. Obviously though, I assumed it was his since it was in the bag with the chocolates.
I, being the good girlfriend, decided to leave work early to drop off his phone. I knew he was working from home today, so he’d be in. When I got there, the sight of him and the woman who looked like a hooker greeted me.
The look on his face when he saw me was absolutely classic. It was a mixture of shock and mortification, then loss. Not loss for losing me because he loved me. It was a look of loss I’d seen far too many times.
That look of loss of opportunity.
Opportunity…
That was what most guys wanted from me. Me, Taylor Cartwright, the second eldest daughter of the great Peter Cartwright.
Cartwright as in Cartwright Enterprises, the empire that practically owned eighty percent of the businesses, real estate, and sporting facilities in Orange County. Cartwright as in the company that owned the NFL football teams The Centaurs and The Gladiators in LA ,and the NHL team The Knights.
My father and his four brothers owned the billionaire empire.
Sometimes it was exciting to think about all they owned. It excited me because I’d always wanted to follow in Dad’s footsteps.
The downside was the fake people.
Fake boyfriends who screwed with me because they wanted a piece of the damn pie. It was the same thing happening all over again with Brody.
He’d, however, shocked me the most. I’d never had anyone cheat on me before. Not that I knew of, anyway, and he had the audacity to try and apologize.
&
nbsp; How I was supposed to forgive him was anyone’s guess, and definitely not
with the girlfriend stretched out on the bed, smiling at me and letting me know he’d always belonged to her.
I couldn’t have felt like a bigger fool.
Thinking about it again now made me feel worse because there had to be a point somewhere along the span of my relationship with him where I must have missed something. A clue of sorts, or God… even the use of common sense. It was like I should have known at some point that the man wasn’t really mine. As I’d driven away from his apartment all I could do was blame myself for falling in to his trap. That and hoping his fucking dick fell off.
Asshole. What a complete asshole. An asshole who blindsided and manipulated me.
The worst part of it was, I actually thought he was different. My last relationship had left me heartbroken because it was the one that made me realize I had to be careful with guys who wanted to be with me because I could help them in some way. I’d been with Nick for over a year before it ended.
Of all my relationships, I’d put the most faith in that one, but Nick was an opportunist who wanted in on the real estate world. As soon as Dad helped him get his foot in the door to one of the top companies in L.A, our relationship frazzled out.
I took more care with Brody because I was so heartbroken after Nick.
I was so stupid though. So very stupid.
I’d foolishly thought it was better to align myself with nice, normal guys who were making an average living instead of the pompous overindulgent rich guys I’d grown up around.
Unlike Nick, who had some wealth but was seeking opportunity, Brody was the guy who was working his way up from scratch.
He was into software development and ran his own business, which wasn’t doing so well when we first met. Two months into us dating saw me foolishly giving him money, which I’d labelled investments. I’d thought that was what you did when you were a couple. You helped each other because you wanted the other to succeed. In the eight months that we’d been together I’d just given more than the average girlfriend because it was within my means.
I thought I took more care. Clearly, I hadn’t because it looked to me like I’d been fucking scammed by a man who already had a girlfriend and was just using me as a bank.
That was what had sent me here. To the bar for whatever drink I could get to ease away the hurt.
The hurt from disappointment and betrayal.
I continued to stare at my awful reflection looking back at me and shook my head at myself.
All that shit Brody sold me about his admiration for how hard I worked, his regard for Dad and the strong marriage my parents had were all lies. It was all a load of bullshit.
All of it.
The sexy bartender who’d served me previously came back and smiled. “Can I get you anything else?” he asked rolling his sleeves up muscular forearms.
I looked at him, leaned forward over the wooden top high counter, and considered another glass of wine.
I’d had a whole bottle to myself already. What was one more when I felt like this? Besides, the fact that I could still remember what happened earlier meant I hadn’t drunk enough.
One glass of wine hadn’t taken the edge off, and neither had a whole bottle.
I could still remember everything, and I was still pissed.
Not just with Brody, but with myself.
“Can I… have a cocktail?” I slurred.
“Sure, um, which one?” He quirked a brow which I just noticed had a cool piercing.
“Anything as long as it’s a cocktail, and while you’re there, could you bring me a bottle of rum?”
Rum… that would do the trick. Grandpa always said that. Rum, brandy, whisky, or vodka. Hard liqueur. What he called a man’s drink.
Stuff that could make you forget all kinds of shit. It might not have been the best option but that was how he said he’d dealt with Grandma’s death.
The bartender looked uncertain, but he nodded and left to get my drinks, obliging the way most people who knew who I was treated me.
Thank God I didn’t have the sort of fame most of the celeb children had. I couldn’t have dealt with that. My sisters, yes. Not me though.
I hated being in the limelight, or any kind of light. I had three sisters, and of the four of us, I was considered the more business-minded and down-to-earth type, even though people had called me the party girl in my college days and early twenties.
Dad was the eldest of his brothers and the only one to have four daughters. My uncle Patrick had two daughters and two sons, and the rest had all sons. All of them in the business in one way or another.
Deep down I’d always thought Dad had wanted boys like his brothers, and that made me work harder. It made me try harder.
It didn’t help that Dad made me jump through all manner of hoops. Never mind that I’d graduated at the top of my year from Yale like he did, or that I had a double honors degree in Marketing and Public Relations like he had. I still had to prove my worth. To some extent more than everyone else who worked for him.
Maybe that was the reason why I had so much bad luck when it came to men. I’d worked so hard I’d glossed over the other stuff most women paid attention to. I’d worked so hard I foolishly thought that if I just focused on getting with a guy who wanted a relationship over a good time, it would happen.
What I should have been doing was acting just like my sisters and cousins.
Living it up.
It was me who was here drowning my sorrows at the bottom of the bottle, not them. It was me who was here getting wasted the night before a very important meeting with Dad tomorrow that would decide my future goals in the company. Not them.
He met with me once a month, just like with his other employees, and we discussed my goals and career progression.
I took care of Cartwright PR. That was practically his baby. It was the sports PR firm he’d created all by himself, and I did a damn good job with it. During the last meeting, I told him I wanted to run the company. I’d actually built up the courage to tell him, and he said we’d discuss it further in our next meeting. As in tomorrow.
The bartender returned with my drinks, and I saw them as my ticket to forget today. I had to forget today because I didn’t want it affecting me tomorrow.
I was twenty-eight years old and nowhere near where I wanted to be in life.
Work was all I had. Work was what I had to protect. So, to hell with today and serious relationships.
Fuck it.
Fuck it all, and fuck Brody too. I really did hope his dick fell off.
As a bunch of guys near me started laughing out loud, I took the cocktail and downed it. The citrus blend tickled my nose making me giggle. Then the room spun and I swayed on my stool. I had to grab on to the counter to keep from falling but I was okay. I actually felt more than okay.
Lightheaded and freeness started to fill me. It took over my mind. Yes… this was exactly what I was going for. This buzz of transcendence.
My surroundings also seemed to shift slightly to the left and up, like I was stuck on my side. The cloying perfume from the woman across from me talking it up with two guys mingled with the pong of nachos and hung high in the air before me like I could touch it with my lashes. If such a thing were possible.
It was like flying, and I wanted more. I reached for the bottle of rum to open it, but a large hand gripped it and moved it away from me.
I scowled and ran my gaze over the hand, across the thick forearms with fine dark hairs and tight taut muscle, and up to meet a gorgeous pair of light blue eyes. Ice-blue.
The eyes, framed with thick dark lashes, were enough to mesmerize anyone, but his face being all angles and planes stole my breath away. His face, the whole style he exuded with his spikey black hair cut into a faux hawk and a white button-up shirt that was rolled up his arms robbed my mind of thought.
My cheeks warmed as my temperature rose, tingling my nerve endings. I
had to wonder if the drink was doing a number on me because this had to be the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life. The masterpiece of him was so striking it compelled me to touch him just to see if he was real.
And… I was just staring. Staring, or gawking more like, and embarrassing myself because I was nigh on drooling.
“Trust me, you shouldn’t have any more to drink,” he said, speaking with a cool edge in a deep baritone timbre that quickened my pulse and warmed my insides.
“Why not? Seems a shame to waste a perfectly good bottle of rum.” I swayed slightly again.
He smiled and looked me over studying my movements. Funnily enough, even though he smiled, his eyes kept that cool edge, showing no emotion. As if he was purposely blocking it out.
“You, my dear, have had too much to drink.”
“Dear?” I cooed. That sounded like one of the endearments my grandparents would use. “How old are you?” I threw back. In my head I knew that was highly inappropriate to ask, but my brain had separated from my body probably about an hour ago as I’d poured the last traces of wine down my throat.
“Old enough.” His eyes flashed with curiosity.
“Me too.” I nodded like he’d asked me a question.
“Good, so you won’t mind if I move this over here.” He slid the rum away, out of my grasp, and I scowled, grabbing it back.
“Yes, actually I do mind.” I huffed. I opened the bottle and took a swig. It burned my throat, and I really wished I hadn’t drunk it. I had to close my eyes to combat the burning sensation, but… when I opened my eyes again, everything felt wonderful.
One Last Time ?: Bad Boy Bachelors of Orange County BK 1 Page 1
